Diamonds in the Rough
by LunarLitLover
Summary: True story of Aladdin. After Ali al Din rescues Yasmine, they live together for a year. But he still doesn't know her true identity. Meanwhile Ja'far is plotting to gain the throne. Includes three marriages, a pregnancy and lots of romance. AJ JJ
1. a serious suitor situation

Dear Reader,

This is a different version of the Aladdin/Jasmine story. This story has been close to my heart for many years (since I was four), and that's why I'm writing it. I doubt many will read it, but I want to write it anyway. If you do read it, please review. It would make my day.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview (For next time)**: Nazihah, Yasmine's handmaiden, is introduced

**PART ONE**

**Chapter 1 - Yasmine**

**A Serious Suitor Situation**

"Father! I can't believe you! No, I won't do this!"

"Yasmine, you _will_ obey me! I am your father and the _Sultan_ of your country! I expect you to choose a husband in the next week!"

"I said no! Do you think I care whether you're _Sultan_ or not? Yes, you're my father, but that doesn't mean you know what's best for me! I don't care for any of these arrogant playboy _emirs_, nor do they care for me! Not a one of them would make a good _Sultan_ either, so if you're saying that I should marry for the country, you're way out of line! They don't want to do anything _for_ the country, they just want to own it!" I responded with all the vigor I could muster, although I was exhausted from arguing. The subject was worn out.

"Yasmine, it's only natural to be skeptical about your future husband. Nerves tend to do that, but that's no-"

"But, you're right, that's not it at all." I spat my answer back at him. But it was no good; he didn't really listen anyway. Or really care. Calmer, I said, "Father, I don't really want anything to do with them. I want to choose my own husband, in my own time, for my own reasons. And that's only if I even decide that I _want_ to get married."

Father's face reddened, and although he was a good ten centimeters shorter than me, he seemed to swell to a much greater height. "Oh, _you'll_ marry, make no mistake about that! And soon! How else will you produce an heir in a timely fashion?"

"Is _that_ what you're worried about? I'm only sixteen, Father. I'll have many years to have children! And if I don't marry, I can always raise another's child as an heir."

His anger exploded. "How _dare_ you propose such a thing! Another line ruling our country! No! No Yasmine! How _dare_ – I can't imagine – OUT! OUT! You'll either choose a husband within the next week or I will! That's my final word! Now leave me! NOW!"

_I haven't seen him this furious since mother died, _I thought. _Maybe I really should get out of his way._

I scurried from the room, sobs escaping my lips, tears trickling down my cheeks.


	2. Decisions and Disguises

Dear Reader,

I actually got reviews last chapter! I was thrilled. If you read this, please review. It's wonderful to get reviews. By the way thank you for pointing out my mistakes. I've fixed some of them and addressed a few more in this chapter. Please tell me if you find anymore.

-LunarLitLover

P.S. Emirs are princes, the Sultan is the king of the country, Nazihah means equal and Saihah means useful.

**Recap**: Yasmine had a fight with her father about marriage.

**Chapter 2-Nazihah (Saihah)**

**Decisions and Disguises**

When Princess Yasmine came rushing into her rooms, I knew something was wrong. Probably another one of those stupid _emirs _that the _Sultan_ is trying to force on her.

"Nazihah, I can't believe him," she said, after pulling her silky curtains down over the entrance to her apartments.

"Who? Your father? I understand, Yasmine. Well I guess I don't _really_ understand about suitors and _emirs_ and all, but I do know how it feels to be forced to do something you don't want to do."

Yasmine blushed, "Oh, Nazihah, I haven't ever made you do anything like that have I?" She was certain in the answer but asked nonetheless.

"No, of course not. Not you. But you're not the only one in this palace. Just because you're my friend doesn't mean there aren't others here who are opposed to treating a slave like dirt."

"Oh, Nazihah, you know you're not my slave. You're my Nazihah, my equal," she kneeled on the marble floor to take my hands.

"To everyone else, I'm just Saihah. I'm just there for them to use," I said this with bitterness although there was truly not much in my heart.

"So am I, Nazihah. So am I." Yasmine gazed into space, as if seeing a different world. Her mind seemed to have returned to her plight.

I was puzzled by this comment. I didn't envy the princess, but I didn't believe she was abused either. Yasmine might have been going through a rough time with this marriage business, but she didn't have an incredibly tough life. "You're a princess, Yasmine. You were spoiled since before you were even born. How can you say you're just an object for others to use?" A pretty critical statement for a slave to give to her princess. But Yasmine and I were best friends. I had been talking to her like this for years.

"Nazihah, all the _emirs_ want to use me to get the crown. Then I'm just an object to produce an heir. My life after that is spent being a gorgeous statue at the _Sultan's_ right hand for people to admire."

"I never thought of it like that," I admitted. "Is that what's bothering you?"

"Yes, but that's not all. I fought with my father. I've never argued with him like that before."

"Yasmine!" I knew that it was illegal for anyone, even a princess and the _Sultan's_ own daughter, to argue with him. Punishable by death. But, of course, I also knew that the _Sultan _would never kill Yasmine for arguing with him. He was a man who dealt out punishments when called for, but not to Yasmine. Not to his only daughter. Not to his only reminder of his late wife, the Malika. Although Yasmine denied it, her father loved her and cared for her very much. Nevertheless, it was only wise for Yasmine to tread carefully.

"He said I must pick a husband within the week, or he will," Yasmine continued. "But it doesn't matter."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Nazihah," she stood up quickly, as if she'd made up her mind about a new daring feat like the ones she usually thought up. She continued, "You're my friend, right?"

I nodded. Of course I was her friend. Ever since she'd chosen me as her personal handmaiden, she'd been the best friend I'd ever had.

"I'm going to ask you to do something for me. I don't want to ask, but I need help. If you ever get found out it will be disastrous. That's why I need to make sure we're friends. I would never ask this of a slave, but of a friend…"

"What is it, Yasmine?" I couldn't keep the apprehension out of my voice.

"I'm leaving. I need help disguising myself and help getting out of the palace. You can pretend you never woke when I left. Father will be livid, but you'll be alright if I leave a note saying that you are to stay in your current position or I will never return. Yes, that'll work. Otherwise he'll kill you."

I gulped.

"Don't worry, we'll all be perfectly alright. You'll be safe and I'll finally get to leave the palace." Her eyes were so bright with the possibilities that it was a shame to crush her hope. But I had to stop this. For her own good.

I tried everything I could think of to put the notion out of her head, but nothing seemed to work. I even threatened to tell her father but she saw through my bluff. In the end, I just had to listen to what she had to say.

"Nazihah, I have to go. I have to try to live my life. I'm not made for this. You can't put me in a box my whole life and expect me to be content. I have to try. I f I could offer you a chance at freedom, you'd take it wouldn't you?"

She'd hit the spot. My heart's desire: freedom. She knew I'd jump at the chance to be free, but that just wasn't an option when you were born from a slave's womb. And I knew Yasmine would grant me that freedom if she could. But it wasn't possible. However, she expected the same from me; that I would give her the chance to live free if the possibility presented itself. Well, here was the possibility.

"What needs to be done?" I asked, with a heavy heart at what I'd decided to do.

We talked logistics for a bit and finally were ready to leave in the wee hours of the morning. Yasmine, with the kohl and rouge off her face and her beautiful black hair cropped short, looked like a completely different person. Appearing like slave women, we had no problems in getting across the palace grounds to the outer wall. It was finally time for goodbyes, something I was horrible at. Reaching up to embrace Yasmine one last time, tears began to well in my eyes. She noticed.

"Oh, Nazihah, don't worry. We'll see each other again. I'll return someday. I promise."

Having nothing better to do, I nodded, making a mental note to remember this promise. And I felt a great emotion welling within me as Yasmine climbed up the tall tree and over the wall into her new life. A poorer life. A harder life. But a freer life. And finally, a life in which I envied.

I wished her luck as her drab clothing disappeared over the wall which was the only barrier between freedom and imprisonment.

**Preview:** Aladdin sees Yasmine in the market place being mistreated by a royal guard


	3. Food and Fury

Dear Reader,

I have several questions to answer about this story before I can begin the next chapter. Firstly, yes, this is an Aladdin fanfic. However, the Aladdin story is more an Arabic legend than a Disney owned story. It is true that I have based some of my ideas on the Disney movie, and I do give them credit for that. But this fic is also a bit more original than some fics, for quite a bit of the plot is my own. Secondly, I keep calling "Jasmine" by the name of "Yasmine" because Jasmine is not a real Arabic name. Yasmine is the translation for the jasmine flower, so I chose to use it for my main character's name, as it is a bit more "real" or accurate. Unfortunately, I do not know if Aladdin or Jafar are actual Arabic names, but I will be using them anyway. Thirdly, if any reader know anything about Saudi culture that I have missed in this fic, please, _please!_, bring it to my attention. I would like this story to be as accurate as possible. Thanks so much and please continue to review because it makes this all worthwhile!

-LunarLitLover

**Recap:** Yasmine left the palace disguised as a commoner with the help of her handmaiden, Nazihah.

**Chapter 3-Ali al Din**

**Food and Fury**

I crouched low on the ledge of the terra building before leaping off. With a quiet landing, I continued on my way down the busy street.

It was a normal morning in Riyadh. The sun rose hot and bright over the large, red-brown city. The streets between the mud buildings bustled with commoners going about their business. Street vendors opened up their carts to sell their goods. Children played in the streets while their mothers chased them fruitlessly. Pickpockets also were about, taking coins out of the wealthier inhabitants' purses. This was the Riyadh I had known since a young child. I remembered that sun, and those vendors, and being one of the children who was chased by his mother. And now I was one of those thieves; maybe not a pickpocket, but still engaged in a dishonorable occupation, nonetheless._ But despite my status, my mother, and…well…despite everything, this is my home,_ I thought. _And I _do _enjoy living here._

As I entered the main market, my sentimental thoughts slowed and I concentrated more on my scheme for getting breakfast. I decided to again climb up the terra wall, then descend yet another time to an awning over one of the food stalls. I sat unnoticed on top of the material patiently for quite some time before making my move. A very hurried lady approached the front of my food stall and the vendor turned his covered head to bargain with her. At his moment of distraction, I reached down from the top of the stall and grabbed for a loaf of bread. Neither vendor nor customer caught this feat, and I proceeded back onto the roof and along it, parallel to the street. I went about a block before climbing down onto another cloth awning to eat my prize.

I lay there for a bit, more enjoying the atmosphere than the food. I ate to live, but I lived for the enjoyment of it. And one of my favorite pastimes was to watch Riyadh come to life over breakfast. So, as I basked in the sun perched on top of the brightly colored cloth, I examined the people moving about. They came in all shapes and sizes, and they came for all different reasons. I watched the hoards of young women buying fabric and jewelry for their dowries of their future weddings. I saw dark men cowering in the shadows to exchange large sums of money for harder-to-acquire substances. I heard the vendors shout out their calls of discounted prices in order to draw the crowds to their carts.

I closed my eyes to lounge back on the awning, but as I did so, the order to "get out of the way" reached my ears. Turning, I saw royal guards pushing people to the side in order to make their way through the congested street. The lead guard continued around the corner in a determined fashion, but the two guards at the rear lingered. They were taking their time, making a point of tossing around as many pedestrians as possible, as if they were bales of barley. It seemed they enjoyed abusing their power.

On the awning, I lay still. I resented the guards' treatment of the common people, but had no desire to mingle with them. Even though I had not been caught at my morning theft, I thought it best to avoid confrontation of the law enforcement and to lie low. Or lie high, in my position.

The two remaining guards continued to shove their way through the crowd. I saw them push an older woman almost to the ground. After that most of the people hurriedly shuffled out of their way. Yet as they came close to the stall I occupied, one young woman in a drab brown cloak did not move from their path. This surprised me and, apparently, the guards as well. The woman had beautiful dark eyes. But she used these eyes to look _up _at the two men standing in front of her. Why she didn't look down, like is required of all females, I don't know. But she didn't. And I think that she realized a moment later what a mistake this was.

One of the two guards took this gesture as an affectionate one, and pressed the defiant woman against the closest building's wall. "A bold whore, you are. I wonder though, how much do you ask from a humble guard? And in the middle of the day? It better be cheap for your sake, because I think that _you_ should be the one paying _me_."

The woman did _not_ like these words. She tried to _push_ her pursuer away. A woman had actually _touched_ a man in an aggressive manner. I was shocked by this behavior, as was the rest of the crowd, yet they continued on with their business in an effort to avoid the guards. But I watched the woman intently, seeing what her next move would be. She appeared to have one. When the man did not let go of her, she kneed him in the groin. He doubled over in pain as she began to run. Unfortunately for her, he'd recovered somewhat before she had escaped from his reach. Held by the arm, the strange woman struggled to continue running. She failed in this attempt and the guard, consumed by humiliation and rage, hit her hard in the face. Blood exploded from the woman's face as her nose broke. But the man did not stop there. He hit her again and again all over her body until she collapsed, exhausted, on the ground. Her torment might have ended there, except the embarrassed man saw that she was still conscious. He dragged the woman to her feet again. She hung rather limply in his grasp, covered in the red paint of her own blood. "That's what you get, whore, for being the disgrace to Allah that you are," the angry man said to his prey.

In the woman's last ounce of strength, I heard her mutter, "If I'm a disgrace, what does that make you?"

The guard let out a yell of rage and threw the worn woman against the wall. She hit the wall hard, with her back against it. The crack of many of her bones overcame the market's noise. And as the abusive men turned the street's corner, I saw the blood-stained woman's broken body sink to the ground in a motionless heap.

I quickly jumped down from my awning and made my way over to the red-brown pile that her body had formed near the wall. Reaching it, I stooped to unfold her body from its unnatural position. When I did this, I was relieved to find that her spine wasn't broken. I also felt a pulse, although a weak one, near her neck. _Thank Allah._

Many stares were directed my way when I reached down to sling the injured woman over my shoulders. But I didn't care. She desperately needed medical attention.

I pressed hastily through Riyadh's market with a bloody woman on my back. For once in my life, I was not enjoying my stroll through the market.

**Preview: **I'm not sure yet, but I think that the next chapter will examine out corrupt grand vizier (possibly named Ja'far)


	4. Patience and Planning

Dear Reader,

Sorry, sorry, sorry! I can't believe it has taken me so long to update this story. I haven't had much time but a lot of writer's block. Thanks to all of you who updated in my absence and who've hung on through it. I have not abandoned this story and hope to update again soon.

And thanks goes to Worker72, who has brought many mistakes to my attention. I have changed Aladdin's name to Ali al din. Ali, by the way, means sublime, or upholding of morals. I never planned to use the actual name Aladdin for the story, but when in a hurry to update, I posted without doing the research that was necessary. Thank you so much for your help! I have also found out that Ja'far _is _a real Arabic name, so I've decided to use it for the story.

Please enjoy this update. The next one should be better, though.

-LunarLitLover

P.S. I am going to begin putting the preview for the next chapter up before the chapter so that the chapter ends with finality. Please tell me if you like this better.

**Preview (for next time):** Yasmine wakes up in an entirely foreign place, being tended by an entirely foreign man.

**Recap:** Yasmine ran away with the help of her handmaiden, Nazihah, and was severely beat up by a palace guard.

**Chapter 4-Ja'far**

**Patience and Planning**

Today was a – for a lack of a more sinister word – _nice_ day. Don't get me wrong: I'm not a naturally sinister man. I'm just a man who knows what I want. I want to be Sultan. And if I have to be sinister to get it, then so be it.

However, for me being Sultan isn't simply a desire; it's a goal that I _will _achieve. I've been working to achieve this goal for over a decade. Yes, a decade. What can I say? I'm a determined man. But I'm also a patient one.

And today my patience paid off.

I woke this morning in my usual bed in my chambers. The girl from last night wasn't bad, but she'd already left to attend to her morning cleaning of the palace.

I was planning on lying in bed for a little longer. I wanted to enjoy the feeling of the warm, morning sun on me. But my plans were disrupted when Sultan Zaim came charging into my rooms in a panic. He was bellowing, "Yasmine's gone! Yasmine's gone!"

I quickly rolled out of bed, the sheet wrapped around me. I ground my teeth together but bowed low. _Treat others as you would expect to be treated._

However, I asked calmly, "How may I be of service, My Great Sultan?"

"Yasmine's gone, Ja'far!" he roared, his hands flying during his rant. "I think she ran off! Find her!"

And this was when my day turned from ordinary to extraordinary. You see, Yasmine's leaving gives me a perfect opportunity.

Well, maybe you don't see. Here, let me explain it:

To rule in a monarchy, you must be part of a royal blood line. If you're not royalty, then you must resort to one of the following measures to gain control:

1) Marry a royal who is in line for the throne – a highly improbable option. Although this is an ideal option because it's perfectly legal, it is highly rare to find a Sultan with only one child and heir. For it to be a female is something else. But it is quite another thing for an only daughter to be permitted to wed someone who is not a prince. It's almost impossibly unlikely. Therefore, I ruled this option out.

2) Hostile takeover – This could be managed very easily, but it is a very unstable way to take over a country. Once you take it, compliance is limited and security precautions great. Not to mention the fact that you've probably left the country in a state of reconstruction at best, civil war at worst. An old friend once told me, "Once you steal something, you spend you whole life fighting to keep it."

3) Put yourself in a position of power, and then slowly dispose of all of those in front of you in the line for the throne – This option is the most likely, in my case. I've already earned the position of Grand Vizier, the closest position to the throne. And, I automatically become Sultan if no other royal can fill the station. The only two royals ate Zaim and Yasmine. If they are disposed of, I will rule.

So then I had to decide how exactly to get rid of them. Accidental deaths for the both of them are too risky. They could survive the attempts, or I could get caught or be suspected. See how this is difficult? I've spend the last ten years trying to decide how to get rid of them.

I know Zaim and Yasmine will have to be killed eventually. I have often asked myself if I feel guilt over that, and, to tell you the truth, I don't. I mean, I don't hate them or even dislike them; as people, they're ok. But to me they're only vassals that I can manipulate and use. I know that sounds harsh, but when you've been in politics as long as I have, you have already sold all of your morals.

But now Yasmine has left. She's gone. And I'm almost positive she won't return, at least not by her own free will. So now I only have one more person to dispose of: Sultan Zaim. One death shouldn't be too difficult to plan. However, if it is, I can always wait until he dies of old age. I'm a patient man.

So I bowed and smiled and responded to the Sultan's requests. I sent the guards out into the city to find the princess. I sent the search party out, as I was expected to do.

But in my heart, I hoped she was never found.


	5. Unfamiliar and Unusual

Dear Reader,

Sorry it has taken me SO long to update this story. I actually have a good reason this time; I was doing research on Saudi culture. There is a lot of information, though, and it would be nearly impossible to make this story perfectly accurate. With that said, I would still like to make the story as realistic as possible and would still appreciate any feedback on culture that anyone can offer. Especially from Dazzeling Diamond, because of your experience. But I would appreciate any feedback I can get.

I hope to get some work done on this story over Christmas break, and hopefully you all won't have to wait so long for the next chapter.

By the way, this chapter is a bit longer than usual, but please enjoy.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for next time:** Nazihah must tell the Sultan what happened to Yasmine

**Recap:** Yasmine escaped the palace but was severely beaten by a palace guard. Ali al Din brought her back to his home to care for her.

**Chapter 5 – Yasmine **

**Unfamiliar and Unusual **

I felt a cool trickle of water touch my parched lips. As to where I was or what was going on, I had no idea. All I knew was that I was unprepared for the _ma'a,_ and that I inhaled it instead of swallowing it. Beginning to cough and sputter, I tried to prop myself up in order to breathe better, but I found I could not move. Once I cleared the liquid from my throat, pain shot through my body. I fell limp and breathed in deeply a few times, trying to stop the pain and make sense of the situation at the same time.

It was only then that I opened my eyes.

At first, my vision was blurred; I could not make out images or even shapes. All I could see was color. Slowly, the figure of a person became visible.

It was a young man.

I gasped, but continued to stare straight at him, too shaken to behave appropriately. I was thoroughly confused and continued to gawp in shock and amazement at the unfamiliar man leaning over me, looking concerned.

I took in the entirety of this strange man. He was young, maybe only a few years older than I. He had dark hair that he'd attempted to crop short; it had, however, gotten out of control and, although it was still relatively short, was in disarray and growing in all directions. He was lean but very strong; his muscles protruded through his worn _thwab_. This cotton cloth was intended to be a robe-like garment, yet it was so torn and old that it fit his slender body tightly and had no sleeves. He also didn't wear a _ghutra_ head cloth or a _takiah_ skullcap. The strange man's nose was tiny and delicate while his cheek bones were well-defined. They jutted sharply from his face, indicating a determined character.

But the feature that stood out to me the most was his eyes. They were a grayish hazel, like I imagined the sea would be. There was a crashing white in them, as violent waves were said to be, yet the many colors seemed to all fit and exist harmoniously together. His eyes, like the ocean, were full of fierce movement yet they were calm and peaceful at the same time.

I took one look into them and was no longer afraid of the man. Mother always said that the eyes were windows to the soul. I saw only compassion and empathy in his eyes; there was no hint of a dishonest gesture, as I had feared.

I then took a look around the room. Well, to be honest, it wasn't a room exactly. The walls were barley there; the adobe had nearly crumbled off of an entire wall, leaving it completely exposed to the city air. This lack-of-wall was covered by a shabby cloth that severed as a curtain. However, the sky above us was entirely open; there was no roof or curtain blocking the view of the billions of bright stars in the sky. But other than the beauty of nature's sky, there wasn't any decoration in the make-shift home. The only items in the room were scraps of fabric and random things thrown in a corner, as well as a blue rug along the wearing floor.

Finally, I looked down at myself. My whole left arm was bound in thick cloth and had been gingerly laid on top of my stomach. My left leg was also elevated a bit, and my face felt tender and swollen. Pain radiated throughout my body, although my lower chest hurt the most when I inhaled to breathe.

I had no clue what had happened.

Figuring that things would be easier to make out in a sitting position, I tried to push myself upright with my good arm. I failed and slumped back into the cushions. However, on my attempt, the goat skin and other blankets had slipped off my body. To my horror, I realized that not only was I missing my head-covering _hiqab, _but I was missing _all_ my clothes. I was completely naked in front of this stranger.

I tried to clutch the blankets to by chest as soon as I'd realized what had happened. But the damage was already done. He had seen my virgin body. I was simply horrified.

"Don't worry," he said suddenly, to my surprise. "I've already seen it all."

Despite his attempt to soothe me, my eyes widened even more. _What a horrible thing to say!_

"I mean, I saw you get beat up by that guard. I brought you back here and had to bandage you to allow you to heal. Unfortunately, this required the removal of your clothing."

This time I shut my eyes in denial. _Oh, Allah! Please say this hasn't happened!_

"Please don't be upset, _Aanisah, _miss; it was necessary for your healing. And, anyway, I didn't look. I promise."

This response seemed so child-like and innocent, that I couldn't help but smile. He smiled back and I forgave him instantly. "So can you tell me what happened, please?" I asked. "I only remember to the point where the guard hit me and I went flying into the wall."

"Well, yes, that's what happened and then you passed out. I saw the whole thing and picked you up. I carried you here and helped my neighbor care for your wounds."

"Um, good sir, what exactly _is _wrong with me?"

"Well, _Aanisah_…"

"My name is…" I paused unsure how to answer this question. He obviously hadn't figured out that I was the princess, and I did not want to tip him off by giving him my real name. I decided that lying was the safest. "It's Fatima. I'm named after my mother." I decided that Mom's name would suffice; she was, after all, part of me.

"Well, _Aanisah_ Fatima, you broke you upper right arm and your collarbone. You right shoulder blade has also been fractured. At least half a dozen of your ribs have also suffered the same fate as well as your lower left leg. The blood loss through your nose and rib wounds was also severe."

My eyes grew large yet again during the description of my wounds.

"Yes, it is a lot, but both my neighbors and I expect you to make a full recovery."

"So I was close to death?"

"No, not exactly…you were…"

I gave him a significant look.

"Alright, you were; you _should_ thank Allah for this great blessing of life today, for it was teetering on line between this world and the next."

"Um, please excuse me, but who _are_ you?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm Ali al Din."

"And what do you do?"

"What do you mean? Do you mean, am I a doctor?"

"Well, are you?"

"No, my neighbors helped teach me medicine, as did my mother before she died."

"I'm sorry about your mother. My mother died a few years ago, too. Yet I still have the same question: what do you do?"

"I'm just an ordinary street rat."

I was taken a bit by surprise by this answer. A street rat? A low life criminal? This was not what I'd expected. Yet there was nothing in Ali's manner that suggested him being a criminal. He had nursed me back to health, hadn't he? I have yet to hear of a criminal who would do that. It was now that all my assumptions about life outside the palace vanished; I knew nothing of what the world was truly like. And it was up to me to experience it before I could judge it.

Ali had been honest with me, so I decided to be honest with him. Well, as honest as I could be without revealing my true identity.

"Well, guess what?" I said in response. "I'm just an ordinary spoiled rich girl."

This time, _he_ smiled.


	6. The Letter that was Left

Dear Reader,

Sorry it's taken me longer to update than I expected. I do, however, have a pretty good idea of what the next two chapters will be like and I hope to write them soon. Also, to clear up confusion, Ali _did_ believe Yasmine's lie about her name being Fatima and did not pick up on the hint about her mother (because Fatima is common enough in the Arab naming world). He will address her as Fatima from now on. Please enjoy.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for next time: **Yasmine, who is very injured, gets to meet Ali's neighbors who taught Ali medicine and helped to nurse her back to health

**Recap: **Yasmine has been severely injured by her disagreement with a guard and is being housed and cared for by a commoner, Ali al Din. Nazihah, Yasmine's handmaiden, has been left at the palace and was involved in Yasmine's plan. Ja'far hopes Yasmine is never found again so that he may take over.

**Chapter 6: Nazihah (Saihah)**

**The Letter that Was Left**

"Saihah, the Sultan demands to see you," Jaf'ar sneered.

"Why?" I asked, pushing my limits.

"Just hurry up, Wench," he snapped as he waved his hand to the guards.

The two brutes grabbed my arms and squeezed them hard as they began to drag me over the marble floor and out of Yasmine's apartments. My feet barely even touched the floor, they held me so tightly.

However, the tight hold they had on my arms was nothing compared to the hold they had on my heart. I was being dragged away like a captive; there was no doubt that I was in great trouble with the Sultan. I only hoped I would not endanger Yasmine or myself. I didn't want her to get caught…and I certainly didn't want to die.

When we entered the throne room, Sultan Zaim was perched on his high throne as usual. However, his eyes were more bloodshot than I've ever seen them and they carried dark circles under them. The number of wrinkles on his face had also increased in the past week, if that is possible; his mouth seemed to be set in a permanent grimace.

The guards made a point of harshly throwing me to the floor at the Sultan's feet; my head was shoved to the ground and I was forced to cower before Yasmine's angry father.

Then the Sultan spoke directly and irately, "Slave, where is my daughther!"

I hesitated before speaking. "I do not know, Majesty."

"Saihah, you have served Yasmine for years and were there the night she left! I am certain you know! Don't lie to me again!"

I wasn't lying; I really didn't know where Yasmine had gone to. But I was smart enough not to deny the Sultan a second time. Instead I decided to tell him any information about Yasmine that I could. "Majesty, if I may, Yasmine gave me a letter to give to you. Would you like it now?"

"What! She did…well…just give it to me, Slave…uh…Saihah," the Sultan responded as Ja'far held out a hand for the letter. I, who had known this would happen eventually, had been carrying it with me ever since Yasmine's departure. I quickly handed it over to the Vizier who in turn gave it to His Majesty.

I saw the Sultan's eyes quickly read over the parchment once, twice, then a third time. His expression was anxious at first but returned to a scowl once he finished reading Yasmine's letter.

I knew naught what it said; Yasmine had not told me and I had not dared read it. I was as anxious as the Sultan to discover its contents. My future was contained in that mix of ink and paper and I could only hope, as I laid there on the frigid floor, that Yasmine insured it to the best of her ability.

After His Majesty was convinced that the letter said the same thing every time it was read, he paused for a moment, lost in his ruminations. Then he gave out orders: "Ja'far, the guards are to continue their search for Yasmine. She doesn't plan on returning in the near future, but if she is apprehended then she will most certainly be brought back to the palace."

Ja'far bowed. "O f course, Your Majesty." The Sultan accepted Ja'far's promise, although I knew for certain that the Vizier had no intentions of keeping it.

It was then that I was addressed. I could not look up at Yasmine's father to see a hint of decision on his face. I couldn't move despite my anxiety. I couldn't breathe either; this was my life at stake here. But I trusted Yasmine, and had to put my faith in her.

"Yasmine claims to refuse to return unless you are kept here, Saihah. You will continue to clean Yasmine's apartments for the time being. But I do not believe you have been truthful with us today. You must know more about my daughter's foolish scheme. You will assist Ja'far with his information gathering. And he may use any means possible to…shall we say…assist _you_…with remembering adequate information."

Although I was nearly flattened against the cold ground, my heart dropped down, probably through the floor. My body froze, as well. _Yasmine had not expected this._

I did not hear it, but we were dismissed. I was yet again lifted by the guards. But instead of being led to Yasmine's old apartments, I was carried down a darker corridor to Ja'far's wing of the palace.

Yasmine had been right: they wouldn't dare chuck me out of the palace and my job with hope of her return.

But she had been wrong too. Neither she nor I had expected this to be my fate.

Neither of us had expected torture.


	7. Swallowing and Singing

Dear Reader,

I'm sorry it has taken me SOOOO very long to update this story. I hope you all are still reading this story. I can tell you that I am hoping on updating this story again soon. Sorry again for the wait. But do be happy, for this chapter is substantially long.

I would also like to give credit to Gibran Khalil Gibran, for his song Song of the Soul, which is a modern Arabic song, but still fitting to this chapter (even if it isn't from the time period.)

-LunarLitLover

**Recap:** Yasmine was hurt in the market place but has been taken in by Ali; she is healing, but slowly due to the severity of her injuries. Nazihah has turned in Yasmine's letter to the Sultan and has been taken by Ja'far for questioning about Yasmine's whereabouts (aka, she will be tortured.)

**Preview for next time: **Examine the yields of Ja'far's interrogation and Nazihah's new position

**Chapter 7: Ali al Din**

**Swallowing and Singing**

I held back the worn curtain over the entry way and saw that Fatima was awake. I entered the room, bringing with me food from the market. It had been early morning when I'd left to get her breakfast, and she'd been sleeping soundly, yet delicately due to her injuries.

I'd hurried back as quickly as possible, but Fatima was already awake. And not only was she awake, but she'd actually managed to sit up on her own.

As I made my way over to her, a bundle of food in my hand, her large eyes, which had widened when I'd entered, shrunk back to their normal size. Then she smiled warmly.

I couldn't help but smile back.

However, Fatima's smile faded from her face. It was replaced by a puzzled look and a tilt of the head. She was confused by my actions.

Only then did I realize that I'd been simply standing and staring at her. Embarrassed, I quickly began to speak, "Well, I got you some food…I know that you can finally handle solid food…it's good that your ribs are healed enough to swallow…so I brought you some warm vegetables to put inside your khubz bread…I hurried through the market place as fast as I could…I hope they're still warm."

Fatima's brown eyes melted into a sea of dark, rich qahweh coffee. She was touched by the kind gesture.

I handed her the whole of the meal and sat down opposite her as she constructed her food.

Upon biting into it, Fatima sighed with delight. "Oh, Ali, shukran, shukran, thank you, thank you! It's delicious! The best food I've ever had!" She took another gigantic bite.

"Well, that's only because you haven't tasted real food in so long," I replied.

She didn't reply, but instead gnawed away insatiably on her meal.

I, feeling unoccupied, tried to find something to do. I looked into the corner and saw my oud, my old instrument. Then an idea came into my head, as a goat comes to grass.

"Fatima, would you like to hear a song?" I asked her, although I was confident in what her answer would be.

In her hasty eating, I had caught her by surprise. Fatima looked up from the meal in a guilty manner. Her mouth was nearly overflowing with food, yet she attempted to respond.

"Oh, I voould 'ove tooo!" she managed to say through a stuffed mouth.

I tried to keep my face neutral and devoid of emotion, but I couldn't manage it. It was so strange to see Fatima, usually proper and polite, talking enthusiastically with her mouth full. She looked so funny, and I burst out laughing.

By now, Fatima had both swallowed and realized her mistake. She too grinned, although she also reached out to shove me. "It's not that funny!" she argued.

However, as she reached out to push me, she reached too far and had moved her still-broken ribs too much. Fatima grabbed them and doubled over in pain, dropping the few remnants of her meal in the process.

I quickly grabbed her from behind and steadied her to prevent a further collapse. Gently, I reached my arms around her stomach and leaned her body back against my chest. We stayed like that, her in my arms, until the pain had passed.

(That evening)

"Masah al-Khair, Ali. Good evening."

"Marhaha, Ayska, Admin, hello," I greeted the couple at my doorstep.

I drew the worn curtain back from the entryway to allow my neighbors in. Ayska bounded in without restraint, heading immediately to Fatima's side.

Ayska, who'd been my neighbor from across the street for years, asked Fatima, "So how's the patient today?"

Fatima, still covered in patches to heal her bones, responded, "Well Ayska, my condition's improving so rapidly…today I sat up on my own…It was exciting! But then I pushed myself too far; Ali helped me though." She flashed me a small grin from the opposite side of the room.

At that my insides jumped. Fatima was such a beautiful woman, and her smile made her more so.

Fatima continued to tell her caretaker and new friend about her improving conditions. She truly had improved rapidly, despite her painful relapse this morning. In the short month and a half since she'd been injured, Fatima had gone from an unconscious state to sitting and eating substantial food on her own. At first, this hadn't seemed like much progress to me, but Ayska, always the nurse, explained what improvements these really were considering Fatima's excessive injuries.

Fatima had continued to talk about her new-found ability to swallow substantial food. She hadn't been able to before now, due to her broken ribs and the pressure on them. "And, Ayska," she said, "I filled my khubz flat bread with vegetables today and was able to eat it. You have no idea how wonderful it was to be eating real food again…and Ali made a special point of getting warm vegetables for me to eat…"

I decided to let the women continue their conversation in peace. I, instead, turned to my best friends, Admin, to strike conversation. I, however, caught him fondly, lovingly watching the women in the corner. I knew from experience that he was savoring Ayska's every smile and animated gesture, taking them all in with appreciation.

"Oh, Admin!" I said. "When will you just marry her!"

He snapped out of the chance at my abrupt statement. "Well…"

"You and Ayska have been together so long, having everything in marriage except the contract! When will you stop being blasphemous to Allah and _marry_ her!"

"Now, wait a-"

"Admin, you know that neither of you would ever marry anyone else. Neither of you would survive without the other." With that, I rested my case.

Admin sighed. "What you say is true, Ali," he admitted. "I do, however, know we will be marrying soon. We have not actually discussed it, but we both know it will not be long."

"You two do things so unconventionally," I noted. It was custom in Arabia for an arranged marriage to take place, and if it wasn't arranged, at least the family was asked for permission.

"We do. But would you expect anything different?" Admin responded. "You live in a neighborhood for misfits and outcasts. Everyone here defies society in one way or another."

"That _is_ why I chose to live here," I said, recalling. "I wanted the creativity, the originality, the variety and the acceptance."

"As did we all," Admin agreed. "Come now," he said, changing the subject. "Let's attempt to be accepted by the ladies."

As we approached Ayska and Fatima, I had an idea. "Would you like to hear the song I promised you earlier, Fatima?"

"I'd love to," she responded without hesitation.

"As would I, thank you for asking," Ayska interjected boldly and sarcastically.

Retrieving my oud, I showed the pear-shaped wooden instrument with six paired strings to Fatima, for my old friends had seen it on numerous occasions.

"It was built by my mother's father and given to her in her dowry. My grandfather did an excellent job crafting it. It has become my pride and joy." I sat down near the others, ready to play. "I shall play a version of _Song of the Soul_." I strummed on the strings and began to sing:

_  
In the depth of my soul there is  
A wordless song - a song that lives  
In the seed of my heart.  
It refuses to melt with ink on  
Parchment; it engulfs my affection  
In a transparent cloak and flows,  
But not upon my lips. _

How can I sigh it? I fear it may  
Mingle with earthly ether;  
To whom shall I sing it? It dwells  
In the house of my soul, in fear of  
Harsh ears.

When I look into my inner eyes  
I see the shadow of its shadow;  
When I touch my fingertips  
I feel its vibrations.

The deeds of my hands heed its  
Presence as a lake must reflect  
The glittering stars; my tears  
Reveal it, as bright drops of dew  
Reveal the secret of a withering rose.

It is a song composed by contemplation,  
And published by silence,  
And shunned by clamor,  
And folded by truth,  
And repeated by dreams,  
And understood by love,  
And hidden by awakening,  
And sung by the soul.

It is the song of love;  
What Cain or Esau could sing it?

It is more fragrant than jasmine;  
What voice could enslave it?

It is heart bound, as a virgin's secret;  
What string could quiver it?

Who dares unite the roar of the sea  
And the singing of the nightingale?  
Who dares compare the shrieking tempest  
To the sigh of an infant?  
Who dares speak aloud the words  
Intended for the heart to speak?  
What human dares sing in voice  
The song of God?

I finished with a soft note. The small crowd erupted in applause. But no one cheered louder than Fatima.


	8. Torture of a Treasure

Dear Readers,

Sorry it has taken me a while to update, although at least this hasn't been the longest I've gone. My computer crashed and I lost everything, including this chapter. So I had to re-write it. But here it is, and although it's short, I hope you are satisfied with it. Depending on the number of reviews, I will update either next week or the one after. (Hopefully)

-LunarLitLover

P.S. I'm sorry if this chap offends anyone, but it important to know of Jaf'ar's relationship with Saihah (Nazihah) and his weakness for women.

**Recap:** Ja'far tortured Saihah (Nazihah) for information of Yasmine's whereabouts on the Sultan's orders but he really doesn't want her found because he wants the throne.

**Preview:** Ali and Yasmine (Fatima) spend time together?

**Chapter 8: Ja'far**

**Torture of a Treasure**

Saihah lay on the stone floor gasping for breath. I had just finished the most brutal round of water torture. Not many did as well as she did with the torture. And no women had. To be able to withstand such torture usually meant both strength and honesty; it means that the subject truly didn't know the answers to the questions and is strong enough to survive nevertheless. Saihah must _not_ know where Yasmine is. Perfect.

However, even if a subject was honest and survived the torture, they generally received death. They were a liability and not at all useful. Saihah's case was different. The Sultan demanded that Saihah remain alive, due to Yasmine's letter saying she would never return if Saihah wasn't kept alive and in palace employ.

Not that I minded. Saihah would be cleaning my quarters, since Yasmine's only required the occasional maintenance job. I received the fruits of her labor.

However, as I watched Saihah's body shudder and convulse on the floor, I saw more than just the cleaning that she could do for me. Her naked body, although thin and bruised, was strong and curved flawlessly. Looking down on my new slave, I felt a fire within me that I hadn't ever felt the like of before. She was everything I wanted in a woman; she had the perfect body for the…_work_…I needed her to do for me. Her mouth was large as full, as were her dark eyes. Her hair was also long and silky. Saihah's abdomen and hips curved with the grace of Allah, and her legs and feet were also perfect. But best of all were her full, luscious breasts. The curve of them was the perfect size for my hands. I knew she was the kind of woman who I would almost never tire of having fill my bed. The perfect companion. A true treasure sent to me by Allah.

Admiring her body, I had begun to nearly convulse myself. My mouth was wet and my body eager to explore her spectacular figure. The lust quelled up inside me, and I knew I could not take it any longer. If I did not have her _now_, I would burst.

Quickly, I lifted her into my arms and carried her across part of the palace to my quarters. She, being weak and delirious, did not have the ability to protest as I laid her down on my bed. I even got as far as spreading her legs completely apart before she realized what was happening. A few words of protest escaped her mouth, and she tried to push me off of her, but had no hope of succeeding.

Using my hands, I opened her mouth and crammed my tongue into it. I drove further and she groaned in sexual pain. Grinning, I pushed harder, this time she gasped. I then went for her blessed breasts. My palms pushed and caressed them, and I, too, moaned. The pleasure was intense and I let out every bit of my desire into Saihah's body. She would have more than just torture bruises tomorrow.

Having a virgin always thrills me beyond compare. Therefore, when I rolled off of the unconscious Saihah in the wee hours of the morning, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.


	9. Worry and Work

Dear Reader,

I hope you have been enjoying the story, even though the updates are short. The next few chapters, although they may take me longer to post, should be longer and very interesting.

-LunarLitLover

**Recap: **Yasmine has been living with Ali al Din for a while during which time she was recovering from her injuries. She has made friends with the neighbors Admin and Ayska.

**Preview (for next time): **Admin and Ayska are planning a party and must help Yasmine get ready

**PART TWO**

**Chapter 9: Yasmine (Fatima)**

**Worry and Work**

I arose from my heap of fabric early. The sun was just arising as well. It broke over the brown-orange city and gave me energy. Standing, I stretched. I did not wince. My ribs no longer hurt. Nor did any other parts of my body. I was completely and totally healed.

I glanced over at Ali who lay in the opposite corner. His back was turned to me, so I had no way of knowing if he was conscious or still slumbering. Walking over to him, I bent down over him and checked his face. Sleeping peacefully. I pushed the dark lock from his forehead and smiled. He was sleeping quite late for someone as full of life as Ali. Well, he would have to rise soon enough for morning prayer.

Before lifting the worn curtain to Ali's entryway, I draped myself in the long black abaya that is to be worn in public. With that, I slipped out of the room.

Upon entering the street, I merged with the morning crowd, consisting of mostly vendor and early mosque goers. I followed the vendors to the food market part of town.

On my walk there, I took time to appreciate all the delights of Riyadh. The way the pounding of my feet into the dusty street blended in with all the others enthralled me. All of the shouting of prices was another aspect of the market I loved.

_I never was around this type of environment at the palace._

The liveliness and activity of the real Riyadh was music to my soul. It was where I belonged.

Bargaining, despite my upbringing, was an art I had picked up quickly and now excelled at. It was no trouble for me to buy a fruit breakfast at a severely reduced rate. Ali was awful at bargaining; it was something he never did. He stole instead, and although I fully understood the reasoning behind such an act, I would never engage in such an act myself.

Upon returning home, Ali was awake and alert, waiting for me to return.

"Ah, Fatima, thank you so much for breakfast," Ali said as I entered the room. "But you really shouldn't have. I could have gotten it…"

"Sure you could have," I teased while setting the fruit out and taking off my abaya. "You were sleeping as heavily as goat's milk sits on the stomach."

"Hmm." He grunted, knowing this was true but not wishing to admit it.

"Plus," I continued as he bit into a mango, "_You_ steal for food. _I_, on the other hand, have funds to buy it. My new jobs at the silk stall may not pay me much, but it does cover the cost of food."

"So you have been paid for the first time?" he inquired as I tasted a sliver of melon.

"Yes, yesterday. Not much, but enough."

"Well, if it's not much, maybe you shouldn't work there…"

"Ali, what do you have against my working?" I asked, feeling a bit frustrated. This wasn't the first time he'd objected to my new job.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. You said you love working. I understand that it gives you a sense of purpose and fulfillment. Just the market is a dangerous place. Especially for women, because they don't usually work there."

"It's a crowded place," I argued. "People will certainly see if anything like that happens. And you're right, I _love _working there, as much for the atmosphere of the market as for the sense of fulfillment. Did you know that just in this last week I saved the owner the price of an entire roll of Chinese silk just by driving hard bargains? It just fits with me to work there."

"I guess you're right. You do fit well with it," Ali admitted. "I just worry…I-I mean…uh…with your injuries and all."

"Ali, we both know that my injuries have long since healed. Which reminds me of another thing I want to speak to you about."

"What's that?" he inquired.

"Well, now that I'm healed, it is no longer necessary for me to be a burden to you and your home. I now have means of income and am capable of living on my own. After all, I have been here for nearly five moons and I feel that staying longer is unfair to you. I should leave."

Ali looked crushed. "Is that really what you want?"

I hesitated. "I'm not trying to be offensive, Ali. I am beyond grateful to you for taking me in and have enjoyed my time here more than I can say. Despite its roughness, I have grown to love this place. But even if I leave, we will remain friends. Nothing will change that."

"Fatima, I need you to understand that you are no burden to me. None whatsoever. I, too, enjoy your company. Only leave if that's what you want."

I was a bit surprised. "You don't want me to leave?"

"That's not what I said…I…well…only if you want…it's up to you…Actually, no. No. I don't want you to leave."

An elation of joy rose up inside me. _I could stay!_ I was thrilled with the prospect more than expected. However, I thought of a way to make this blessing even sweeter.

"Ali," I responded. "I'll stay on one condition."

"Anything."

My heart jumped.

"Well, you must begin to work."

His face did not move.

"Oh," I said, feeling rejected. "Well, I understand that it's something you don't want to do and that's acceptable for me-"

"No, no. Fatima, I'll do it. Just name the place."

I smiled. "Thank you, Ali. It makes me feel better to know you're taken care of. I think you could do well as a man of repair. You're good with your hands would be great at fixing things. Or you could be an assistant to the herbalist. Your medical knowledge would serve you well."

"I'll look into both."

I grinned genuinely from ear to ear.

"I guess working is a good thing," Ali stated. "I have never really done it officially for money because it never entered my mind. I honestly never considered it. But seeing that you enjoy it so, I don't see how it could be anything less than great."

His gaze fell on me. He looked me directly in the eyes. I stared back. His eyes were so bold, so powerful. He seemed to have the same notion about mine. We looked into the eyes of each other and it was as if we saw inside of each other. In that moment, it was clear we connected.

I broke the gaze and looked down.

Silence.

Ali ended it by saying, "I'll begin working as soon as possible."

Looking up again, I grinned. "Then I'll stay."


	10. Indecision and Infatuation

ear Reader,

Sorry it took me so long to update. I've been on vacation and had exams. I plan on updating more since I'm out of school. Please enjoy. The next chap should be good.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for next time: **the party and Ali has some realizations about Fatima/Yasmine

**Recap:** Admin and Ayska are good friends with both Fatima and Ali al Din. They are neighbors and a bit off the wall (by defying social protocol, etc.) Ali still doesn't know that Yasmine is a princess; he thinks she's just rich girl Fatima. They are becoming closer, and Yasmine/Fatima is in Ali's house to stay.

**Chapter 10: Yasmine (Fatima)**

**Indecision and Infatuation**

"Ayska, I've never been to anything remotely like this party. I haven't any ideas about what I should wear," I sighed in exasperation. I truly had never had an experience like this before. Or even knew an experience like this existed before.

In the palace, our functions were completely different. I was required to simply sit on a cushion by my father's side. It was very formal and not at all fun. However, Admin and Ayska were having a _party_. And an abnormal one at that. There would be male-female dancing – something very uncommon, from what I'm told – food served all throughout the night, and women could wear whatever outfits they wanted – there would be no more hiding the most beautiful and elaborate outfits in the privacy of their homes. This was indeed an unusual (and somewhat rebellious) party.

Needless to say, I was entirely at a loss in how to handle this.

It was a warm evening, and Ayska and I were in the silk shop I worked at. We were shopping for fabric for my party outfit. Even though Ayska was already extremely busy with the preparations, she insisted on making me a gorgeous outfit for the event. I was here to pick out the fabric and general design. Even with my extensive knowledge of fabric, this was proving difficult. I had no idea what I was looking for.

Ayska held up a roll of deep red, "What about this?"

I shook my head. Being royalty, I wore a lot of red in the palace. I didn't want to go back to those days. Plus, the color didn't do much for me.

Over the next several minutes, Ayska pulled out enough fabric to clothe all of Muhammad's descendants. However, none of it pleased me. Not one color or texture caught my eye. After I rejected one after another, Ayska threw her hands into the air. "Fatima, by Allah, you _really_ don't want me to make this for you, do you! Do you distrust my sewing skills!"

"No, Ayska," I replied, trying to calm her. "I'm just a spoiled, picky, rich girl. I won't be happy until I get what I want." I grinned mischievously. "But at least this way," I added, "you won't be spending your time making something I don't want."

Although a smile played around the corners of her lips, Ayska crossed her arms stubbornly. "Fine, then," she replied. "I'll wait here while you choose."

I perused the shop but found nothing of interest. I then proceeded around it once more, being more thorough in my search this time. Finally, in the back of a corner I saw it. The silk was the perfect shade of purple, and had an older, softer feel. There wasn't much of it left, for it obviously had been in the shop a long time. However, there looked like there might be enough for me.

I called Ayska over and she approved of my choice. Actually, she was overly enthusiastic about the fabric. When I opened my mouth to tell her that I didn't know exactly _how_ I wanted it to be worn, she beat me to it. She said, "Oh, leave it to me. I have the perfect idea for how to use this fabric. Well, it's not actually the _best_, but it's better than any ideas you would come up with."

In response, I jokingly glared at her.

She glared back before refocusing her attention on the fabric. She began to hold up different sections to my body, trying to figure out how it would all fit together.

A thought occurred to me. "Ayska, do you think Ali will like this color on me?"

Aysaka cocked her head to the side. "Who _wouldn't_ like this color on _you_!"

I let out a short giggle, and then asked again, "But do you think Ali, and Ali in particular, will be especially pleased with it?"

"Fatima, I know you don't know this, but that boy would roll in circles for you if you came in a _rag_! He is infatuated with you. And it seems you feel the same way."

That comment surprised me. I immediately began to defend myself. "_Infatuated!_ No one is infatuated with anyone! Why would you say a thing like that!"

"I seemed to have hit a nerve," Ayska replied smugly. "But you know, Fatima, I always speak the truth. Even if it is the very…_truthful_…kind we don't want to hear or acknowledge." A moment of silence passed before Ayska continued. "You must have some feeling for him, though," she said. "He did save your life, nurse you back to health, share his home with you and now get a job for you. That's no light list."

I sighed. "I guess you're right, Ayska. I _do_ care about him. But not really because of those things."

She looked up at me in surprise as she measured the silk against the width of my hips. "Why do you care about him, then?"

I shrugged. "I don't really know _why_…do you have a reason for caring about Admin?"

She nodded. "He's himself. He's the one an only unique Admin."

I nodded back, comprehending. "That's what makes Ali special to me, I guess. There's no particular reason. He's just…_him_."

Ayska smiled. She recognized the feeling all too well.

"Fatima," she said. "Do you know _why_ you feel _that_ way?"

"Why?" I asked casually.

"Because you've fallen for him."


	11. Dancing, Daring and Darkness

Dear Reader,

This chapter is not as good as I'd hoped, butI was more concerned with posting it than making it perfect. I hope it satisfies you.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for next time:** Fatima/Yasmine and Ali with the new change affecting them. Not sure about the details at this point.

**Recap:** Admin and Ayska, Ali's neighbors and F/Y's and Ali's good friends are throwing a rebellious party, where many laws are broken. Fatima realized she has some feelings for Ali.

**Chapter 11: Ali al Din**

**Dancing, Daring and Darkness**

All different fabrics in all different colors swirled around me as I entered Admin and Ayska's home. The vibrant coloring was so extremely unusual that I paused for a moment. All the women wore bright colors and intricate patterns; this type of expressive clothing was forbidden for women outside of their own private homes. That rule wasn't stopping them now, though.

The movement and whirl of these colors was due to the dancing. Heterosexual dancing was also forbidden, and yet here it was going on in my best friends' home.

I myself had to dance around the moving couples in order to make my way over to Admin and Ayska who were greeting guests on the opposite side of the room. Both hosts greeted me enthusiastically and I complimented their courage to throw a party such as this.

"Well, we are not conforming people, Ali," Admin replied to my comment. "As you know, Ayska and I live together even though we aren't wed. We are not about to change what we do because of rules or social customs. If we want to have a party with beautiful clothes and dancing, then, by all means, that's what we will do."

"I understand, Admin," I nodded. "But your bravery still applies for a compliment."

"Thank you, Ali, but I wouldn't exactly call it bravery-" Ayska began to say, but I didn't hear the rest of her comment.

At that moment, Fatima entered the room.

She looked stunning, like a Bedouin beauty. She wore the style of the desert tribe and her eyes were painted accordingly. They were pronounced with a rich kohl but the rest of her face shined with natural radiance from the sun. She wore a stiff gold and purple throat and mouth covering – I don't know what they're called, or anything about women's clothing for that matter. But the covering had two rows of stripes that were pointed upward towards each other. Fatima also wore a sheer head covering of the same deep purple with woven gold accents. Her robe matched the rest of the outfit; deep purple silk with gold edges and highlights. When she moved, it emphasized her curves perfectly. She was a wonder. A wonder that stopped me in my tracks.

Upon entering the room, Fatima made her way directly over to Ayska. Fatima did not see my stare until reaching our corner. Although half of her cheeks were covered, I could see her blush. She also looked down at the floor instead of meeting my eyes.

At this strange behavior of Fatima's, Admin and Ayska noticed my stare as well. All four of us were aware of it, even myself, but I was too captivated by the object of my stare to consider breaking it.

Slowly, Admin and Ayska moved to our left to speak to their friend from Western Europe and to give room to Fatima and me. We were left practically to ourselves.

Only then did Fatima meet my gaze. She tried to ignore my stare, but her cheeks still held a deep blush.

"Fatima, you look…" I looked her up and down, my eyes finally resting on her face. "You look like…like a…a desert flower. The most beautiful one I've ever seen."

"Thank you, Ali," she said, honestly honored by my flattery. "Ayska helped me with the outfit, although it was also inspired by my grandmother and mother. My mother's mother was a Bedouin woman until she married my grandfather. She told my mother many stories of that life, which my mother then passed on to me. My mother loved the stories. She always dreamed of visiting the tribe and learning their ways."

"I never knew that about your family, Fatima. Believe it or not, my mother was also a Bedouin until she married my father and moved to the city."

"Really?" Fatima asked me, delight sparkling in her eyes.

We talked for a while longer about the Bedouin customs and the tribes our family members were from. However, shortly after we had began to converse, I noticed many other pairs of eyes belonging to young men shifting in our direction. All of them were looking at the attractive Fatima. It was not long after that when I lost her to the foreigner, who asked her for the dance.

The rest of the party went by rather slowly for me. Fatima was occupied by many young men who kept asking for her to dance, who kept giving her drinks accompanied by flattery, and who kept conversing with her about a variety of subjects. Yet despite Fatima's being occupied with other men, I couldn't help but keep my eyes off of her. I would glance her direction every other moment, despite my determination not to. I caught her looking at me several times during the evening as well, although I had no idea if it was by chance that we caught each other's gaze or if there was a reason behind it.

I was a bit jealous of all the men who were taking up Fatima's time and attention, yet I didn't get the nerve or chance to ask her to dance myself until what Ayska told me was the last song of the night. Only then did I steal Fatima from the throng of admirers.

She was dancing with another young male when I cut in. Her partner looked unhappy, but I ignored him. "Fatima, may I have the last dance?" I asked, my eyes speaking directly to hers.

She did not avoid my gaze but used her eyes to indicate her willingness. Nonetheless, she also answered back with her voice, "You may."

We joined the group of moving couples. Facing each other, we moved forwards. I touched her hand, as was required by the dance, and felt electricity shoot through the soft, delicatepalm and into my body. We released each other but then turned to face each other once more. We weaved this way through the couples and back to each other over and over, the music becoming more faster each time through. Each time we also got closer together until not only are hands were touching but our bodies were connecting as well. When this occurred and reoccurred, it only lasted a few seconds. However, in those moments, I felt more alive and at home than I had in a long, long time. The enrgy in Fatima's eyes indicated that she was feeling the same way.

Once the party was over, I had expected Fatima to stay and socialize with Ayska for a while before returning home. However, when the song ended, she kept a hold on my hand. She led me out the door and into the dark, empty street, without ever stopping to grab her head coverings that she had removed during the dancing.

In the dark street, it was chilly and windy, and Fatima's dark locks blew around her face as she shivered. Yet she kept a hold on my hand and led me farther down the street, away from Admin and Ayska's house.

I had no idea where we were headed, but I eventually stopped Fatima and turned her towards me. I looked into her dark brown eyes and knew this was the time. I had to say what I needed to say. What I had needed to say for a long time.

"Fatima, you're beautiful. So beautiful. The most spectacular creature that Allah ever created. And not just in your looks. You are a beautiful _person_, and the only one I've ever felt this way about before. I'm not explaining this very well but-"

She silenced me by pressing a finger to my lips. Her eyes also stared into the depths of mine and I realized in that moment that she'd brought me out here to confess the same things I'd just said to her.

Understanding each other's feelings completely for the first time was liberating. There were no longer any boundaries. Therefore, I wasn't surprised when Fatima reached up and wrapped her arms around me. My gaze held hers and our souls connected in a dance, more firey than the one inside, through our eyes. I leaned my head towards her and our forheads touched. Then our noses connected as well. AfterI saw Fatima close her eyes,I followed suit. ThenI felt warm lips press against mine, for the first time in my life. Her lips were as soft and delicate as a ripe mango, yet i was more filled by their touch than by the consumption of a thousand mangos. I clung to her tigher; I never wanted to let her go.

We stayed there, in that small street, kissing under the cover of darkness.


	12. Mud and Marriage

Dear Reader,

I ended up writing this chapter differently and later than expected, and it is shorter. I hope you enjoy it though, and understand it, for it is in a somewhat chaotic order.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for next time: **the four friends begin their journey to Jiddah, a costal city, where the blessed event will occur. They will probably travel through Mecca and make their traditional Hajj, or pilgrimage that all Muslims must make once in life, and may travel with a Bedouin tribe on the move or possibly a large caravan of traders.

**Recap:** Ali and Fatima/Yasmine kissed outside of Admin and Ayska's party and are now officially together.

**Chapter 12: Ali al Din**

**Mud and Marriage**

Working side-by-side to cover the walls with the adobe, Fatima's hand and mine brushed each other. I shivered.

She smiled at my reaction, half sweetly, half mockingly. And I shivered again as butterflies flew in my stomach. But this time her response was laughter.

I shoved her gently and jokingly, yet I nearly smeared her with the muddy substance we were working with. She gasped dramatically and shook her head at me as if scolding a five-year-old.

"I can't help it! I can't help my reactions!" I yelled, defending myself. And it was true. I couldn't help shivering whenever she touched me. And I couldn't help the butterflies that sprang actively from their cocoons in my stomach when she looked at me. I couldn't control the leap and speedy patter of my heart when we touched lips briefly as we always did when parting or reuniting. These things- these reactions to Fatima- were beyond my control. Why I did them, I had no idea. It's not as if I was nervous, for the interactions that triggered them were commonplace now. And it's not as if I was truly cold or sick to the stomach or tired from activity; these things could happen in the middle of a hot summer day when I sat on the floor with a full and happy belly. But if Fatima was there, they would happen.

Fatima's voice brought me back to the present. "I know you can't help it, Ali! But it must then mean that you are afraid of me!"

I smile broke my lips as an idea broke into my brain. "You sure about that, Fatima?" I asked.

She hesitated, trying to guess my next move, before confidently replying, "Yes."

"Well then," and I grabbed a handful of adobe and went after her. I chased her around the room until she was cornered. "Who's afraid now?" I asked.

But she did not answer, for she was shrieking in dread of what was about to happen and in light of the game. But that did not stop me. I grabbed her around the waist from behind and smeared the adobe into her face. She squealed, and I let off her face, only to resort to her shoulder and upper chest. The sounds she made now stopped and she turned to face me. I held her in my arms as I began to run the mud through her hair, at first playfully but then fondly. Our eyes held each other's gaze as I continued to dirty her hair with the filth that both of us had forgotten. I reached the back of her neck and held onto it tightly. She also reached up and looped her arms around my neck. I looked into her deep brown eyes once more before closing mine and falling into the kiss.

I shivered and my pace quickened as my stomach fluttered. However, these sensations were all but forgotten when compared to the touch of Fatima's lips. Although covered with adobe, they were still like perfect ripe figs waiting until the harvest would come for them. I kissed them harder, trying to devour their sweetness, when Fatima surprised me by slipping her tongue into my mouth for the first time. The tastes in our mouths mingled due to the fiery and passionate dance that we'd never come close to before. It was as if Allah was sitting here, with us standing in the blessed light of his glory. That's how heavenly it was.

Fatima finally pulled away, her eyes still closed. She leaned into me and rubbed her nose to mine before opening her eyes. After smiling warmly, she giggled and pointed at my face.

"What is it?" I asked, touching my face myself.

Fatima giggled again as I pulled an adobe-covered hand off my face. The mud on Fatima's face had rubbed onto mine during our kiss. I would get her for this.

"Fatima, you're going to pay!" I joked, hurrying to the bowl of heavy liquid. However Fatima beat me to it.

"No," she said. "We better not waste anymore. We need it for this home. _Our_ home."

"You're right. It's for our home."

---

Fatima and I were eating dinner side-by-side, with our legs hanging out the large window, when Admin and Ayska arrived unannounced.

We immediately rose to welcome them and they quickly complimented the work on our home.

"It's looks wonderful, you two," Ayska said. "The adobe is so well done and covers all the cracks, including those in that new ceiling. Whoever knew your little safe-haven as a child would turn into a lovely home, Ali."

I blushed as Fatima beamed. It was her idea to fix up our home to be in better condition. Now that we had a little money from her assisting the silk dealer and my assisting the local herb doctor, she thought that we should do a bit of "home improvement." I had asked her if she would like to move elsewhere, but she vehemently refused. She loved this place, she'd said, but it needed a little work. At first I didn't much agree with her, but now, after much of the work, I understood why Fatima had put her heart and soul into this project.

Admin prodded Ayska and she stopped talking after finishing her sentence. "Tell them what we're here for," Admin said, rather more excitedly than he usual.

"Oh, right," Ayska said as if this reason was a thing easy to forget.

"She finally agreed!" Admin tried to explain to his friends. "I've been waiting so long, but she finally brought it up and realizes that we have everything but the official agreement! I was so happy! I thought she'd never want it! She…" He continued to babble unintelligibly until Ayska cut him off.

"What he's trying to say," she said exasperated. "Is that we're getting married!"


	13. Royalty Revealed

Dear Reader,

I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I had a serious case of writer's block and spent nearly a day staring at the computer attempting to write this. It's not that great, but it is an essential chapter to the story and it was about time for an update. Please enjoy and review; I already have the next chapter ready, but I will have to wait to post it until I get enough reviews.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for Next Time: **Yasmine reunites with someone, has an argument and thinks about her regrets.

**Recap: **Admin and Ayska are getting married and Ali and Fatima/Yasmine are a couple.

**Chapter 13: Yasmine (Fatima)**

**Royalty Revealed**

The cool desert air blew dust into my face as I carried the full water skin over to our small tents. The breeze, although rough from the granules, was refreshing and cool, for the sun was setting in the west and the earth was finally releasing its heat. However, I knew it would soon be too cold to roam without protection, for night was coming in the desert.

I lugged the water skin from the camels to the fire located between our five tents. The camp had been put together quickly and was designed to be packed up quickly. A dozen and a half of us were in the desert between Jiddah and Mecca, on our way to the costal city of Jiddah where the Admin and Ayska's wedding would be taking place. We had originally been traveling with a group of pilgrims; they were taking their special Hajj, as we were, and we joined them to Mecca. After experiencing Muhammad's wonderful city, we continued west, towards Jiddah, with a caravan of traders, but they told us a Bedouin tribe was on the move, a day or so ahead, also traveling west. Our group decided to try to catch up with them, so we, despite the danger of traveling alone, chose to leave the safety of the caravan to attempt to catch up to the Bedouin. Therefore, we were camping alone tonight.

I reached the camp's center, put the water skin down, and then sat down myself to rest for a moment. Ali then came out of the tent we were sharing with Admin and Ayska, and he sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders, which were now shivering.

"I guess you're not used to the night chills of the desert. I daresay you probably hardly ever entered the desert with your old family," Ali said, pulling me closer to him.

At the mention of my old life, I felt a strong pain of guilt in my navel. I had still not divulged the truth about my past to anyone, even Ayska and Ali. It wasn't that I didn't trust them; I did, and I _wanted_ to tell them so badly. But I didn't know how. I had gone so long as Fatima, that how was I supposed to just randomly admit I was someone completely different? After all, I had truly _become_ Fatima, and I didn't want to go back to being Yasmine. But I knew I needed to tell them. And soon. Of course, now wasn't the appropriate time, with everyone traveling for a wedding. I would have to wait until after the celebrations to tell my secret.

However, at that moment, my thoughts were cut short by a shout at the edge of our miniscule camp. "Oy, there are some horses approaching! About a dozen!" one of Admin's friends shouted.

Ali rose along with the other men and went to the edge of the camp. These people might be brigands or thieves, and we did not intend to let them overrun our camp. I, feeling worried also, rose to join the men, my black abaya flying in the now strong breeze.

We waited until the men on horses reached our camp. Only when they did, did I realize that they were official royal guards. Guards that I had passed each and every day in the palace. Fear erupted in my chest. What if one of them recognized me? I pulled my abaya tighter over my face.

One of the guards approached us and Admin stepped out to speak for the group. "The Sultan himself is camping nearby," the guard said. My eyes bulged in surprise. "A precious jewel of his has gone missing; we think it was stolen. So, we are inspecting all of the nearby camps, to determine if there is a thief in any of them. We will be searching through everything, mind you."

"I don't think that would be appreciated by my guests," Admin replied boldly.

"I'm afraid this is not a request," the guard replied harshly.

Admin, admitting defeat, bowed slightly and said, "Very well, you may search."

The guards tore through the camp, throwing our personal items in all directions. No one _did_ appreciate this, of course, but what choice did we have? But I was too worried about my identity being discovered to care about the disorganization of my belongings, and I focused mainly on staying out of the way of the guards.

However, I didn't get very lucky.

The guards were obviously unsuccessful in their search and were preparing to leave as soon as they realized this. I was standing at the edge of the camp still, and was completely unaware that the group of guards was headed my way. You can imagine my surprise when one bumped into me. I turned around immediately and came face to face with my old personal guard, who had looked out for me since I was a child. I looked into his eyes, and the intense fear of being recognized returned.

My fear was not unfounded. He looked into my eyes, and a look of confusion came over his face. It was as if he recognized me but could not remember who exactly I was. After staring at me for a moment, though, he still couldn't remember and muttered an apology. He then backed up to leave. However, the wind had twisted the edge of my abaya around his arm, and when he moved away, he accidentally pulled it off my head. I stood there staring, eyes wide, with my dark hair shining in the waning sun for a moment that lasted an eternity. Then I got my senses back and hastily pulled the abaya back over my face and head.

But it was too late. He had recognized me.

The guard's eyes grew very wide and his mouth fell open. "Princess?" he asked uncertainly. "Princess Yasmine?"

I didn't know what to do. If I spoke, surely he would know. Instead of answering, I began to back away.

But now he was confident in his suspicions. "It _is_ you," he said. "Oh, Your Highness, you father will be so pleased to see you again. We all thought you were dead."

"What are you talking about, Good Sir?" I asked, panic in my voice. Everyone in the camp was staring at me. Including Admin, Ayska and Ali.

"Princess, don't deny it. Highness, I know it's you. You will have to come with us, of course."

Fighting it would not do, it seemed. So, I panicked. "No!" I yelled. "I'm not going back!"

I began to run.

However, I was caught by the guard who had recognized me. He had grabbed me from behind to stop me.

Soon other guards joined him, and it was clear that there was no way in which I could escape. Still fighting tooth and nail, they put me up on one of the horses, and my childhood guard mounted behind me and held me tightly so that I would not fall off, whether by accident or choice.

We rode out of the camp, with the guards in a circle around my horse. I knew now there was nothing I could do.

I looked over my shoulder as we rode out. I saw the faces of my friends. Most of them appeared shocked or angry.

However, Ali looked heart-broken.

Seeing his face, tears began to pour out of my eyes. Why hadn't I told him? Why hadn't I given him the truth that he deserved? I wished I could go back and do it over again.

But there was one thing I wished for even more than that. I wished I could stay with Ali. But that could never happen. I would never be able to see him again.

Blinded by tears, I had no way of seeing if they froze or evaporated as they landed in the course desert sand.

And the horses continued onward, caring nothing for my tears.


	14. Regrets and Reuniting

Dear Reader,

This is where Yasmine finally reunites with her father, but nothing seems to have changed. I think it's not bad, and I hope you enjoy it. I will not be able to update for another 3 weeks, because I'm going to Alaska and don't expect to have access to fanfiction up there. Please hang with me; I'll update as soon as I get back.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for Next Time: **Admin, Ayska, and Ali's feelings on Fatima really being Princess Yasmine

**Recap: **Admin and Ayska and their wedding party are on their way to Jiddah, when royal guards search their belongings for a missing diamond. They do not find the diamond, but recognize Yasmine instead and take her back to the Sultan, revealing her true identity in the process.

**Chapter 14: Yasmine**

**Regrets and Reuniting**

Father's camp loomed ahead. It was, of course, large and elaborate and it could be seen a couple of miles away.

However, my head and heart were too busy waging war to notice. I only realized we were close when I began to hear noise from the camp. Many servants and slaves were busy running here and there to finish their tasks and fulfill their duties. I grimaced at this, forgetting what a large part of palace life these people were.

We rode right up to Father's grand tent, and he bustled out immediately, obviously under the impression that his missing jewel had been found. But when he saw only a guard and a common woman, he looked confused.

"What is this?" he asked harshly.

"Majesty!" My guard dismounted from the horse; then he lifted me off. Bowing low before Father, he began to explain. "We were checking a nearby camp for the missing diamond, and this woman was there."

"What do you think I want with a common woman?" Father interrupted.

"But she is not a common woman, Your Majesty!" the guard said, bowing low again. Father glared at me in disgust, for I wasn't bowing low before him. "I recognized her," the guard continued. "It is Her Higness, Princess Yasmine!"

Father's eyes grew wide. "Yasmine…? My…my…_daughter_ Yasmine?"

I did not look up. My eyes were still watering and the face cloth of my black abaya was soaked with my tears.

But the guard answered instead, "Yes, Your Majesty; it _is_ Princess Yasmine! I am sure of it! For, you see, I recognized her because I have been her personal guard since the Malika passed…and she was such a young girl then! I've known her all that time!"

Father's eyes flashed at the guard. He was a loose talker and very bold to speak of my late mother in front of Father.

"I wish to make sure," Father replied, now getting his bearings. "Come here, please, Yasmine, if that's who you are."

I walked forward; it wasn't as if I had another choice. I continued to look down, purposely avoiding Father's gaze. But once I reached him, he lifted my chin and removed my face cloth.

He recognized me immediately. "Oh, Yasmine…" Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes.

It was only then that I truly looked at my father, who I hadn't seen in nearly a year. He was definitely older and wearier looking than the last time I'd seen him. His beard was longer but thinner and his eyes carried bags under them. His body was thinner and frailer, as well. I couldn't believe only a year would change him this much.

But then, I couldn't believe it had been an entire _year_! I hadn't seen my own father, who I'd been with every day of my youth, _once_ in the past 11 or 12 moons!

And even though I would have given anything to be back in camp with Ali, I was glad to see Father. It was a blessing that I was able to see him again. Even though we had many differences, I still loved him and I had missed him.

He stroked my cheek, and more tears leaked out of my eyes. "Oh, Yasmine, I can't believe we have you back…I can't believe…" He planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Oh, Father, I am glad to see you!" I said honestly.

He smiled before leading me into his tent.

Once inside, he made everyone else leave, including Ja'far. I was surprised at this, but also relieved, so I didn't argue. He made me sit near the tray of Shai tea, and then he joined me, bringing his own cup.

He was still in a state of relief and shock. "Yasmine, I can't believe it! I thought there was news of the missing diamond, but, no, it's you! Of course you're a better diamond to have back! But I can't believe it! We…we thought you were dead! Oh, thank Allah! You found your way back to me! But what happened? Where were you? And what was this letter you wrote and left for me? Was that real? What have you been doing? Why did you leave? How have you survived? How…"

"Father, stop! Let me just tell you, alright?" I said, with a bit of frusturation.

He nodded.

"Well, as my letter told you, I left. On my own accord; I ran away. I couldn't live in the palace any longer, and I was _not_ about to marry one of those stupid emirs you kept pushing on me! So I left! I went to live in a commoners' place – and I'm not going to tell you where – but I love it there! And I've got a job and everything! And I have all kinds of friends! And I was on a trip for a wedding party now! And I intend to go back to it!"

Father had been getting redder and angrier during my incomplete summary of my life after the palace. At my last statement, though, he exploded, "What! You think you're going back to rejoin those commoners! I don't think so, Yasmine! Now that you're back, you're here to stay! And you will do what you're told! You will come with us to the summer retreat in the mountains at Ta'if! And you will marry as soon as possible and come back to live in the palace! I don't know what's gotten into you! Running away and all! But it will _not_ happen again, Yasmine! And I will make sure of that! You are the future Malika of this country, and I will _not_ see you residing on the street and being friends with commoners! I will not have it!"

My happiness at seeing my father again evaporated in an instant. He was the same closed-minded man I'd remembered; he still insisted on me living a life that was not suited to me. And I knew fighting with him again would not change his mind; if my leaving for a year would not change it, a little yelling certainly wouldn't.

So instead of screaming, I rose and stormed out of the tent.

Father followed me outside. "You two," he said to two female servants nearby. "See that Princess Yasmine gets proper clothing and show her to Ja'far's tent. It is to be her's now. Tell Ja'far and his dependents to come and see me and I will move them into another tent." The two girls looked at him in astonishment, clearly thinking he was crazy to think his daughter was back. But then Father pointed to me and said, "There she is! Get going!"

They then went to work immediately, and before I knew it, I was laying in a tent of my own, dressed in fancy clothes and jewelry, occupying a mattress that was not my own.

It was now dark and time for me to sleep, but I knew such a thing would be impossible. I, instead, cried quietly into a pillow, desperately trying to forget my predicament. I had thought through every possible scenario to get out of this situation, but none would work. The entrance to my tent was guarded, as were all the horses and camels. Even if I could escape the camp, I wouldn't get far in the desert. I could, of course, try to do so during the day while traveling on an animal of my own, but there was no doubt in my mind that I'd be chased down by the guards in a matter of moments. No, it looked as if I was trapped, and that certainly did not appeal to me.

Things were as they had been before I'd left. Father and I were fighting, Ja'far still had a lot of power, I was required to fill a pointless role, and I still had to marry a selfish emir. However, now I didn't know if I would have Nazihah back, I had tasted the outside world and would have more trouble giving it up, and I have lost many great friends. So in many ways, my predicament was worse than it had been before I'd left.

But my situation wasn't truly horrible for any of those reasons. This time, it was absolutely terrible because I had betrayed and lost the only man I'd ever loved.

And there was no way I'd ever get him back.


	15. An Angered Argument

Dear Reader,

This chapter, like many of the last ones, was put together in a hurry, and could be better. I think it's not bad, though, and I hope you enjoy Ali's feelings about being betrayed by Fatima/Yasmine. Also, be happy, because I am in Alaska and actually got online to update. However the next one won't be until I get back. But enjoy this one!

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for Next Time: **The mission and coping with the change

**Recap: **Yasmine was recognized by a guard and taken back to the Sultan. She has no means of escape on her own and regrets her lie now. Ali, Admin and Ayska were shocked by the news that their Fatima is Yasmine.

**Chapter 15: Ali al Din**

**An Angered Argument**

The Princess? Fatima is really the _Princess!_

I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't. I had lived with this woman for nearly a year, saved her life and cared for her! Yet I had _no_ idea she was the Princess! I was angry at her for hiding such a large secret, but I was angry at myself, as well, for not asking more about her past and for not noticing the fact that she was concealing such a giant fact from all of us. See, none of us knew; not even Ayska.

As the troop of horses took her away to the northeast, our entire group stood at the camp's edge to watch. All of us were shocked beyond belief, and waited to disperse until the royal group was out of our range of vision.

It was now dark and most of the others congregated near the fire to eat and gossip about what had just happened. I had wanted to join them all, but the conversation had not turned in a direction I favored.

"…she was with that Ali al Din…"

"…they have been _living_ _together_ for some time, if you know what I mean…"

"…I hear she's remodeled the place, but I wonder what else she's been doing there…"

"…thePrincess and a commoner…"

"…I mean the _Princess_, the actual _Princess…_"

"…I wonder what a woman like _that_ saw in _him_…"

My face got redder and redder as I walked around the fire. I decided that I did not want to be stared at and talked about any longer, so I retired early. I entered the tent I had shared with Fatima – I guess that's not her real name, so then, the Princess – Admin and Ayska, to find both Admin and Ayska there, drinking Shai tea in privacy.

I began to draw back, but then Ayska saw me and said, "No, Ali. Join us. We were discussing Fatima."

"Big surprise," I replied sarcastically as I sat down. "But her name's not really Fatima, is it?"

"Well, she told us that that was her mother's name, which may be true," Ayska replied. "But she also _did_ tell us to call her Fatima and I will do so until told otherwise."

Admin grinned and shook his head.

My face was getting hot. It was as if Ayska was not blaming Fatima – the Princess - at all. "It seems like you're letting her off the hook, Ayska."

"Of course I'm not! She lied to us and should be held accountable for that. But I do also understand why she did what she did."

"So do I!" I yelled. "She did it because she couldn't trust us! And because she wanted to use us!"

"Use us! Ali, be reasonable! What in Allah's name would she need to use _us _for?" Ayska counter-argued.

"Well, for medical help!" I yelled back. "And for a place to stay!"

"She could have gone any number of places for those things, Ali! But I think she was grateful to you for saving her, and so she hung around until she got to know all of us really well. She may not have the same name as we knew her by, but we still know her! She is still our friend!"

"How can I be friends with someone who's lied to me and who doesn't trust me!" I screamed.

"I don't think she lied because she couldn't trust you," Ayska replied.

I looked at her puzzled. Admin just sat near us quietly, keeping out of the argument.

"I think she probably couldn't trust you at _first_ because she didn't know you, so she lied. She ran away for a reason and didn't want to be turned back in; it was in her own interest she did that. I think she had every intention of telling us the truth once she got to know us, but that is often easier said than done. We already knew her as one person, and I don't think she wanted to disrupt the peace by completely changing everything. I also don't think she wanted us to change our minds about _her_ or treat her differently. I bet she was thinking of telling us soon, after the wedding, perhaps, but obviously, didn't get the chance. But I don't think she ever expected the lie to go on this long. And, after all, she _has_ sort of _become _Fatima. I mean she's not really the Princess anymore, is she? So Fatima is like the name for her other self."

"So you think all these reasons excuse the lie?" I accused again.

"Ali, again, _no_, I don't. I think she needs to explain and repent that mistake. All I'm saying is I _understand_ it - it makes sense what she did."

"Well, not to me," I replied nastily, fast running out of good arguments.

"Just think of yourself in the same situation, Ali. You're a royal who hates life like it is, so you leave and try to incorporate yourself in the normal culture. Your father wants you back and is searching the streets for signs of you. You are _not _about to tell the first person you meet your true identity. So you lie. And then you have to keep up the lie. And then the lie is so large that turning around and undoing it is much harder than continuing with it, so you do that for a while. And before you know it, it's too late."

When Ayska put it that way, it made much more sense. Maybe Fatima – the Princess – had been doing the smart thing after all. But that still left the situation of her and me. It was illegal for a princess to be associated with anyone before marriage, and when she did marry, it would have to be to a prince. Being with me violated both of those laws. Yet it had been _her_ who'd started it all; she was the one who'd kissed me after Admin and Ayska's party. And she'd seemed happy when we were together, and had even said that the best times of her life were the ones with me.

Yes, I supposed, I _did_ truly know her, even if I didn't know her real name. And she was precious to me, no matter who she was. And with this resolution, I knew there was only one thing for it.

We had to rescue her.


	16. Rescue with Relief

Dear Reader,

Although this chapter could be better, I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it. And, also, thank you for all your reviews and support! It was great to get all of the reviews whenI returned from Alaska!

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for Next Time: **Awakwardness between "the Princess" and Ali as well as life and traveling with the Bedouins

**Recap: **Admin and Ayska and their wedding party are on their way to Jiddah, when royal guards search their belongings for a missing diamond. They do not find the diamond, but recognize Yasmine instead and take her back to the Sultan, revealing her true identity in the process. She has reunited with her father, but does not wish to stay with him, for he still wants her to have a life of imprisionment. Ali, Admin and Ayska have decided, even though they are angry with Y/F's lies, they must rescue her.

**Chapter 16: Ali al Din**

**Rescue with Relief**

The activity in the royal camp was mostly dead when Admin, Ayska and I arrived. It was very quiet, with only the sounds of a crackling fire and restless camels. There was no movement that we saw, although we were fairly certain that there were guards around.

It was fortunate that the moon was new; otherwise, we surely would have been spotted miles away. The royals, or perhaps their knowledgeable advisors, had chosen their camp well; there were no massive dunes anywhere near it, which guaranteed that any newcomer would be spotted long before they reached the camp. In the daylight, anyway. As it was with us, we came in the dark of night, on a night lit with many stars but only a miniscule sliver of moon. And since there were only three of us, with a fourth hopefully to come, we only rode two camels, which made us more conspicuous. Undoubtedly, no horde of thieves or bandits traveled in such a small group.

It was due to Allah's grace with these factors that we made it to the edges of the camp without detection. We slid off the camels a few meters out and placed a small bit of food in front of them so they would stay put. We then headed into the camp.

All of us were wary and alert, perhaps even more so by the unusual lack of guards. However, there was a more pressing problem I had to wrap my mind around. How were we going to find the Princess? I could think of no solution to this problem that would include us leaving the camp undetected and unscarred. I knew no other way to discover the occupants of a particular tent than to open it up and look in. Obviously, this wasn't a great idea; we would surely wake up half the camp in such an attempt.

Luckily, fortune struck again. We had passed only the first row of tents when we encountered a guard. He was farther down the line of tents but headed our way. I, being in the lead, drew back and held my arm out to stop Admin and Ayska from continuing. They halted as suddenly as I had, and the three of us drew breath, sharply but quietly. The guard continued pacing, heading our way.

He came closer and showed no sign of stopping before reaching the tent we were on the side of. I began to panic; what should we do? We had no room to hide well, but we would have a chance to escape detection, but no guarantee, if we hid behind the tent. Yet there had to be a better way…

But miraculously,the guard stopped in his tracks a few tents before ours. I was puzzled at the reason for this, but that, too, was quickly provided.

A taller but thinner guard than the one who'd been near us came rushing from the center of the camp. He stopped before our guard and said, "It's time to rotate duty. They want you at the entrance to the Princess's tent."

Our guard nodded, and my heart leapt. This was our chance. But it was too dark for me to be able to tell the guard from many others; I could not wait and then hope to recognize him later. No, I had to follow him now if I wanted any chance at finding the Princess's tent. The only issue with this, of course, was the risk of getting caught.Such a riskwas quite high when I was running around a camp that had moving guards, while trying to follow one myself. Plus, I had to escape the detection ofthe otherguard nearly three meters in front of me. This would certainly be a challenge. Yet it was my best hope of finding the Princess.

When the stockier guard set out to the Princess's tent, I was prepared to follow, no matter where the other,thinner guard was. It turned out that I was lucky once more. As soon as the guard I'd pegged started out, the skinny guard turned around and began to pace in the direction opposite us. I gave no communication to Admin and Ayska, but set out after the stocky guard without a word.

My friendsdid not follow me, and I was relieved, for the three of us together certainly would have been caught at some point or another. I myself had a few near scrapes, one where I nearly walked right into a passing guard but slunk into the shadows just in time. I made it all the way to a large tent in the center of the camp when the stocky guard halted and took over the position of watching the entrance with another guard. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. I had been lucky to make it this far undetected. The ease was, in part, due to the fact that the patrols were not designed to catch one lone man, but aimed at protecting the important royals from thievery or kidnapping by a large group of bandits. Still, it was lucky that I'd made it to the center of the camp without one ill incident.

Now that I had reached my destination I knew naught what to do to actually get to the Princess. Fortunately, (Allah was truly shining on me this night) the solution came to me quickly. There were plenty of guards at the front of the tent, but none on any of the sides. They obviously only expected trouble from the official entrance. I knew there would be guards patrolling the nearby areas, but I thought I could act quickly enough to get away with it. The only issue left that I hadn't yet solved was Fatim - the Princess's – surprise. Upon my unexpected and unorthodox entrance, I might frighten or startle her; shemight possiblyscream and wake up half the camp. However, no matter which way I entered, this was a danger,but alsounavoidable; it was just a risk I was going to half to take.

My mind made up, I quickly sprinted between tents and made it to the back of hers. There was indeed a guard on that side but he was several tents away, with his back turned. Yet I knew I would only have a minute or so to get in, get her and get out. Even at that, I could easily be detected.

I cut the tent fabric quickly and quietly. Once I had made and opening big enough to slip through, I did just that. Upon entering the tent, I saw that it was elaborate and spacious; perfect for a princess. There was a bed of sorts in the center of the space and I was sure the Princess was resting upon it. It seemed she had remained asleep during my entrance, and I was grateful for this. Yet I was wrong, for in an instant she'd sat up straight and turned to face me. But no sound escaped her lips. I stood and began to make my way over to her, yet she seemed to recognize my silhouette, and was out of the bed and to my side before I'd even gotten within the distance for her to clearly see my face.

She had reached me, though, and we could then both see each other's faces fairly clearly. She looked unsurprised to see me, but still obviously relieved. I also caught the unmistakable signs of crying on her face; there were tear stains there and her eyes were a puffy red. It was then that I knew I'd done the right thing in coming back for her. She'd obviously been distressed at her return to her royal origins, and although my anger was great for her lie, I could not stand to see her suffer.

We said nothing to each other; instead, a silent understanding fell over us in those brief moments. I had come to save her; there was no question about that from either of us. And I knew she would follow my lead, no matter where it took us.

Although I felt both awkward and repulsed by the idea, I grabbed her hand to lead her out of her quarters and through the maze of tents. She followed obediently, her ears alert for any commands of mine and for forewarning whispers from any approaching guards.

We reached the edge of the camp with no problems, and I started out towards Admin and Ayska, who had mounted the camels and were waiting for us.

We were just past the very outer layer of tents when I heard movement behind us. I turned and saw it was a guard. He was as utterly shocked to see us as we were to see him,but it took him a moment too long to take action. I have no idea if he recognized the Princess or not, but he had enough sense to know that intruders sneaking around was a bad thing.

He opened his mouth to shout, but never got to it. I had seized his moment of hesitation; my knife was out in an instant and near his throat. "If you shout, I will kill you," I warned. His mouth shut immediately, and I looked at the Princess for conformation that I could still do what needed to be done; kill the man. Her eyes opened wide in shock and disapproval, but I knew I had to do it, or all of us would be caught and killed (with the exception of the Princess.) Yet I couldn't bring myself to do it; I couldn't kill the helpless man. Instead, I took my elbow and banged it against his head to knock him unconscious.

I knew he wouldn't be out for long, maybe only a half hour or so, yet I hoped it would be long enough for us to get far enough away. The rest of the wedding party had been warned as to our actions, and were hastily packing as we spoke. We intended to leave tonight and travel nonstop until we met the Bedouins; it was the only way we could prevent being caught up with by the royals. I only hoped the guard who could warn of our departure would stay out cold for a while and not be found too soon. Allah had given us much luck that night; I prayed he would bless us with a bit more.

After taking care of the guard, I jumped on the camel and grabbed Fatim – the Princess - by the waist to bring her up as well. With that, we set off at a hasty gallop to return to our camp.

Once we had cleared sight of the royal camp, the Princess spoke softly in my ear. It was a very seductive whisper, which caused my anger to melt a little, but it seemed manipulative and deceptive as well, so it also spiked my fury. However, her actual _words_ were neither seductive or manipulative. They were honest and grateful. "Thank you so much, Ali, for rescuing me," she said sweetly."I cannot tell you what it means to me. You put yourself on the line for a traitor who had lied to you. I will never forget such kindness and unselfishness. Please accept my apology and my gratitude. Both come from the depths of my soul and the bottom of my heart." And with the conclusion of these words, she kissed me lightly on the cheek.

Yet I kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, and I did not respond to her words nor her gesture of affection.

I could not.


	17. positioning people and preparing plans

Dear Reader,

This chapter is very short, as is the next one. Unfortunately, they are both essential, for it has been a long while since we have heard from Ja'far and Nazihah about their thoughts on current events.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for Next Time: **Nazihah's feelings about the Princess's escape and her new type of servitude to Ja'far

**Recap: **Yasmine has been rescued from the Sultan's camp by a angry Ali and company that finally know Yasmine's true identity as the Princess.

**PART THREE**

**Chapter 17: Ja'far**

**Positioning People and Preparing Plans**

Princess Yasmine has escaped again.

Sultan Zaim was furious once more, but this time he was even angrier with himself for letting it happen. The guards were also livid because she escaped, and with the aid of outsiders, from under their noses. However, my party of servants was happy about Yasmine's departure; they get their large tent back. The cooks were also contented with the disappearance of the Princess; they had not looked forward to feeding another picky royal.

I myself am not sure how I feel about her leaving. Her surprise arrival certainly did not please me; here was a returned royal that I would now have to dispose of. So I suppose seeing her gone again is a bit of a relief, yet this time I know she is certainly not gone for good. I am sure she will be caught again. Eventually, probably sooner as opposed to later, she will return, and be reinstated to her place in line for the throne. Then, I will not only have to get rid of Zaim, but of Yasmine too in order to become the Sultan. Such a thought certainly does not appeal to me.

But at least now I get time to plan and prepare. If Yasmine was still with this royal party, the pace of her marriage and ascension to the throne would speed up. As it is, with her departure, there has been a delay in these proceedings. I can use this time to position my people and prepare my plan.

Of course, I will have to adapt and change my plan. I must now configure a cunning princess and a vigilant Sultan into the equation. Now that the two royals have aged and learned some valuable lessons, they will be a bit harder to deal with.

All these thoughts flying in my head, I got quite a headache. I needed to forget about the stress for a while, for none of the matters were extremely pressing. In order to do so, though, I needed a distraction. I saw the slave Saihah moving around gracefully and saw a _perfect_ distraction.

"Out," I ordered to my servants. "OUT! Except for you Saihah."

Saihah stopped and looked at me. It seemed for a moment as if a look of sadness entered her gorgeous eyes, but it was gone before I was certain of it. She sat on the bed, knowing exactly what I wanted from her. As soon as all of the other servants left, I crawled on top of her. I let out all of my physical and mental stress onto her. It felt wonderful; even after all these months, she was still my favorite bedmate.

My headache had quickly evaporated. In the late night, I arose from the bed and began to make my plans.


	18. Friends for Freedom

Dear Reader,

This chapter is very short again. But you need to know Nazihah's thoughts. The next one will go back to Ali and Yasmine and will be longer. Also, sorry I haven't updated in a while but I've been at band camp and busy besides. I will try to update as much as possible, but it will be more difficult now with my summer technically over due to band. Thanks for your patience.

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for Next Time: **Ali is still angry at Yasmine. Their akwardness and thoughts while among the Bedouins.

**Recap: **Yasmine has been rescued from the Sultan's camp by a angry Ali and company that finally know Yasmine's true identity as the Princess. Ja'far is still using Nazihah as his bedmate, and he is also re-plotting his takeover of the throne.

**Chapter 18: Nazihah (Saihah)**

**Friends for Freedom**

For the next few days, I was lucky. Ja'far was mentally distracted and busy writing and planning something. He had no time for sex, so I was temporarily liberated from my torture.

And make no mistake, what he did to me – the rape, I suppose – truly was torture. In all the months that it had been happening, it got no better. It was still nearly unbearable and just as scarring as the first time it occurred. The only difference now was that I expected it. But I was not, by any means, desensitized to such a horrible crime.

Each time he touched me, I shivered inside. Each time he pushed his sweating body against mine, I wanted to vomit. And it never got any better. Each and every time it happened, I felt revolted and disgusted, and these feeling were just as strong as during the first occurrence.

Actually, it is almost worse now. Now I have to actively _participate_. For the first month or two, Ja'far was satisfied with solely my body. But then he got bored and tried to convince me to give him something back. I did nothing for a while, until he threatened to torture me again – like when he was trying to find out about Yasmine - if I did not make nights entertaining for him. I had no choice; I now had to be his partner instead of just the _object_ of his passion.

But even though I would now kiss _him_ and sit on top of _him_, I would still want to pull away at his touch and run when he called for me. I had no feelings for him, except the feeling of intense hatred.

Needless to say, I was desperate for a way out of my predicament. I prayed to Allah at night for deliverance from such blasphemous torture. But there wasn't a person in _this_ world who would listen to my complaints, who would save me. Only my late mistress, Yasmine, would have done so.

Therefore, when Yasmine reappeared out of the blue to us one summer eve, I had hope. I might yet be saved. However, she disappeared as quickly as she'd come.

Part of me was happy for my friend to be free as she truly desired.

But only a small part.

As much as I wanted Yasmine to live her own, free life, I _needed_ freedom from the horrid ways of Ja'far. I needed to be free of him soon, for I was rotting from the inside-out. My soul was slowly dying, and without freedom from its torturer, it wouldn't be long before it completely shut down. Only Yasmine could provide me with such freedom, so I found myself selfishly wishing for her return to the Sultan.

Odd, that she and I both desire freedom above all else.


	19. Hurting Hearts

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoy this short chapter. Although nothing new really happens, you get to feel Yasmine's emotions more. I hope you like it, and please review!

-LunarLitLover

**Preview for Next Time: **Ali's pain of betrayal and debate about what to do next

**Recap: **Ali, Admin and Ayska know the truth of Yasmine's identity, and rescued her from her father. Yet Ali feels betrayed, and has not yet forgiven her.

**Chapter 19: Yasmine (Fatima)**

**Hurting Hearts**

"Shukran, shukran, Admin, Ayska. Thank you, thank you." I hugged my two friends fiercely. They had forgiven me so easily. They had not asked any questions, they had not accused me of any offenses, they had not passed any judgments. They had simply forgiven me for my lies.

"You're welcome, Fatima. We will always accept you as family, no matter where you came from originally," Ayska replied, embracing me. "After all, Allah sent you to us. We would be fools to ignore his blessing."

I smiled. A friend like Ayska was priceless. However, as I pulled away from her, I saw Ali sulking in the corner; he was glaring our way. Until that moment, I had forgotten that Ali had not spoken to me following my rescue. My smile was instantly wiped from my face.

I looked away and tried not to care.

I was unsuccessful.

How could he turn from me so easily? How could he judge so quickly for a life he did not have and for decisions he had not been forced to make? I knew that what I had done was wrong; I knew he was hurt that I had not trusted him and confused about his feelings. I did not blame Ali for pulling away from me somewhat but how could he abandon my _friendship_ so thoroughly? I had apologized profusely and promised I would do what I could to make amends. Maybe that had not been enough, but if it wasn't, what would be? Didn't he understand that I _needed_ him? Didn't he see that his withdrawal was tearing _me_ apart? How could he be so cruel? How could he simply not _care_?

When I felt the heavy wetness in my eyes, I exited the tent quickly with the excuse that I had to help the Bedouin women prepare the meal. I could not let Ali see my tears.

Once outside in the fresh air (which was, remarkably, more private), I wiped my eyes with my burka and pulled it over my face.

The wind whipped at my clothes as I made my way over to the cooking area. It would have been sunset, had the clouds not crowded the horizon; time to prepare the evening meal. I had truly planned to help with the cooking, but had not been so intent on doing so until Ali had upset me – again.

The women welcomed me to share their work; extra help was always appreciated. I labored alongside the rest of them, my individuality lost in the multitude of required tasks. These desert women did not care who my father was and how much money he had; to them, I was only a pair of hands equally capable of helping in their task. Such a thought soothed me.

We served shwarma and fuul that evening to all of the hungry men and children. The lamb and mashed fava beans, seasoned with garlic and lemon, were swiftly devoured by the famished tribe and praise was given all around. The men I served thanked me sincerely, and I was pleased to know that _someone_ appreciated me.

Following the meal, the Sheikh of the tribe held open-forum, majli, in the presence of the whole tribe. Some stories of the day were told, but there were no complaints among the content people; the Sheikh soon vacated the fire circle for the entertainment.

I sat near the front of the circle, with a few friendly women I had socialized with while cooking. We talked happily of daily life and its pleasures, but I was frequently distracted by my own thoughts.

Across the circle, sat Admin, Ayska, and of course, Ali. Admin and Ayska had eaten their meal beside me, so I felt in no way abandoned by them; I understood that they were trying to fairly divide their time between the silent but feuding parties of Ali and me. Although Ayska and Admin were occupying most of their time speaking to members of their wedding party, we frequently caught each other's eyes. When such a thing happened, we would trade smiles.

Ali, however, was conversing with no one. He sat miserably between the bride and the bridegroom, and stared at the fire. He did not look up until an elder of the tribe began to sing.

The entertainment that night was excellent, so much so that even Ali could not ignore it. Stories of Scheherazade were told in song and poems of Al-Mutanabbi were recited. Folk music was sung and original music was played on foreign instruments.

Yet despite my fascination with the proceedings, I found my eyes constantly flickering towards Admin and Ayska. Well, really towards Ali. Once, his eyes caught mine. I was prepared to hold the gaze to see what it might say, but he couldn't bear to look at me. He turned his head sharply and refocused on the performer.

I, too, turned my head away from him and began to converse with my companions. If one person couldn't talk to me or look at me, fine; there were many, many others here who would acknowledge me and share my company. I was surrounded by dozens of new, interesting people; I was around the hospitable desert ancestors of my mother. They would accept me.

But I knew that would not satisfy me. I could be surrounded by the whole world, and I would still feel isolated.

In my heart, I would still feel alone.


End file.
